Those of you who read my blog religiously are quite aware of my hatred for the city I currently reside in. You also need to get a life. Because while my blog may be amusing at times, it certainly is not material worth building a religion on. I’ll leave that to Mr. L. Ron Hubbard.
In any case, a not-so-funny thing happened to me tonight. I needed a quick dinner, so I thought I’d call the local Baja Fresh and order something to pick up. It’s all very routine for me. I call in the order, take my special shortcut to the parking garage where I can park free for one hour with validation, pick up my order, hand the ticket to the parking attendant, and I’m back home in about ten to fifteen minutes. Well, that’s the way it’s supposed to work, at least.
Everything went according to plan. I parked in the parking garage, picked up my order, got my ticket validated, then drove up to hand the guy my ticket in the garage. Only instead of looking at the ticket and saying “thank you” and opening the gate for me to leave, he just stared at the ticket. And I waited patiently. Until he informed me that I owed him two dollars.
“Two dollars? I have a validation.”
“But you’ve been here for over an hour. The ticket says 18, it’s now 19.”
“I just got here. I’ve been here maybe five minutes!”
“The ticket says you’ve been here for over an hour.”
“I don’t care what the ticket says! I just got here. Trust me, I’m not trying to pull a fast one on you!”
In any case, the line of cars started getting longer behind me, and I realized how it must have looked to the drivers that followed me: Some asshole disputing a couple dollars. But I didn’t owe those fucking dollars. I didn’t owe him shit. But I paid him anyway, because it was obvious he was an idiot and he wasn’t going to budge.
Fuck you, too, Hollywood. Motherfuckers.
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